Ok, actually I'm in a phase of acute test unwillingness and enjoy my winter treasures. But I can't let the largely duty-free (and also extended by one hour) Sunday, on which I was allowed to indulge in leisure, pass without a little Cologne test
And this test, despite the title teaser, has nothing to do with Lolita, but something to do with the House of Savoy, to which this fragrance is to be dedicated. But we'll start like the perfumer... Stefano Frecceri is mentioned here both as the creator of this fragrance, whose release date was 1853, and as the nose behind La Superba Rovo Nero, launched by the same company in 2008. If we assume that Frecceri did not design the fragrance Colonia Classica before he graduated from high school, he is at least 170 years old, which is further proof of the health benefits of the Mediterranean diet. Stefano, congratulations at this point!
According to various more or less serious internet sources (such as "parfuemgefluester.de") Frecceri was court perfumer of the royal house of Savoy and at the same time founder of the company Acqua di Genova. He created this fragrance in 1853, and it is said to have been reserved for the male and female members of this royal house during the first years. It is possible that farmers and craftsmen who nevertheless used the 800 ml balloon atomizer ("Spruzzatore") to spray the fragrance were quartered. More exact details are not handed down.
Today, of course, no one knows what the royal house of Savoy was. That's sad on the one hand, but on the other hand it gives me the opportunity to watch an episode of Infotainment.
Sovoyen was, similar to Lotharingian and Burgundy, one of these intermediate empires, which in the course of the Middle Ages often spread out between the great centres of power like France and the Holy Roman Empire. The borders of Savoy changed constantly, but roughly speaking its dominion was mostly located in today's triangle of France, Italy and Switzerland. The first Savoy ruler (still in the rank of a count) was Humbert the White-handed (Umberto Biancomano) around the year 1000. From then on, Savoy and the Savoy rulers managed over the centuries to always be on top, like the fat on the soup. Once they even appointed a (counter-) pope. With time, their territory shifted more towards Piedmont and Sardinia. Around 1400 the rulers no longer called themselves count, but duke, and since 1713 they called themselves king. At some point, the city of Genoa was added to the territory (which makes the name of this fragrance company understandable).
The Savoy managed to be alternately extremely progressive and extremely reactionary. In one of the reactionary phases they enacted (1825) a law according to which reading and writing was only allowed for the rich. The Papal Papal State was next door to the Papal States and was, by comparison, a veritable stronghold of the Enlightenment. 28 years after this law, Stefano Frecceri came around the corner with this scent, and a few years later (connections with the scent have not yet been researched) Savoy (or Piedmont-Sardinia) was once again beastly modern and exemplary, and so much so that all the other Italian principalities gradually joined the small kingdom and together formed the modern state of Italy. That was great for the Savoy rulers, who became kings of Italy in this way.
After the penultimate king of Savoy, Victor Emmanuel III, who had ruled as long (1900-1946) as he did badly (namely as a stirrup holder and then as Mussolini's puppet), another Humbert, namely Umberto II, took over the crown in 1946, but only for a month. Then he made himself a slim foot to Portugal, but still considered himself king of Italy until his death in 1983. After him there were only completely embarrassing figures of the calibre of the meanwhile psychiatrically cared for beating prince Ernst August von Hannover.
As varied as the history of the Savoy is the fragrance of this colognes, with the role of Humbert taking over the citrus notes: They open the door and close it again at the end
The prelude is a rather sweet, almost candied lemon-orange melange (I see the bergamot as quantité negligeable). After a few minutes the whole thing turns into a bitter-herbal-herbal-lavendery with a hint of soapy. I cannot feel rosemary or any other fresh herbs, but an oily-oily lubrication of the scent mechanism. After about 15 to 20 minutes the scent has reached a phase which is the worst for me, because I can't stand something like that in Colognes, if it is not extremely well used (it is not here). But it was probably Anno Tuback the very special something: a tranig-granular, somewhat streaky dark rose. Whether Bulgarian or not, who knows.
After an hour or so, you want to copy this scent, and then, bang, it pulls itself together, and all the scents that have been wildly wandering around until then sort themselves out in perfect order as if pulled by invisible magnets. Then you smell (for another 1-2 hours, very light) a wonderfully fine, slightly tart, cheerful citric (no longer sweet) with a little lavender powdery and a fresh woodiness that is neither dusty, crunchy nor modernly trivial. If there were only this base note, it would be a 9-point plus fragrance. But with a cologne, it's the beginning and the middle that count, and I'm not really convinced by this fragrance.
Ergo: Viva la Repubblica!
Top Notes 
Lemon
Bergamot
Neroli
Orange
Heart Notes 
Lavender
Bulgarian rose absolute
Jasmine
Rosemary
Base Notes 
Citrus notes
Musk
Sandalwood
Amber
Patchouli
